


The Puppet and his Puppetmaster

by AiaPhoenix



Series: Puppetmaster [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Angst, Confused Naegi Makoto, Despair, Despair Naegi Makoto, Emotional Manipulation, Enoshima Junko Being Enoshima Junko, F/M, Manipulation, Mastermind Enoshima Junko, Pre-Danganronpa, Warning: Enoshima Junko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 09:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18363641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AiaPhoenix/pseuds/AiaPhoenix
Summary: He was many things.Empty. Needed by none other than the Ultimate Despair Enoshima Junko. Her spy. Her puppet to use him as she pleased.Being completely emotionless was sadly not one of them.Despair lurks just around the corner, until it doesn't.





	The Puppet and his Puppetmaster

Makoto thought that it had been a pretty normal morning. He stood up, brushed his teeth, ate breakfast at an empty table and went to school.

 

Everything had been silent, the sky a beautiful red, just like usual.

 

Except it wasn't a normal morning.

 

It started out with him going to school like usual, although feeling sick to his stomach for whatever reason. He didn't know why until he opened the door to his classroom.

 

There, sitting on his desk, was an eagerly waiting Enoshima. Once she saw him, she jumped off his desk and ran over to him, hugging him close. “Makoto-chan! Good morning!“

 

“Good morning... Junko,“ Makoto responded automatically as his limbs grew limp, making him fall into Enoshima's embrace completely.

 

“And? How do you like this new setup?“ she asked him excitedly and slid down onto the floor with him, putting his head into her lap and stroking his hair absentmindedly, “I put _soooo_ much work into it and it's going to be _soooo_ much better soon!“

 

...What was this...? Why was everything– where was everyone...?

 

He turned his head to the side.

 

Ah.

 

Right.

 

He finally remembered why he was feeling sick.

 

“It's... great,“ Makoto answered but it _really_ _wasn't_. “I... like it.“

 

Enoshima had told him that she had killed his parents. Kidnapped his sister. Hadn't told him where she took her. For the _despair_.

 

She was successful.

 

 

 

...They would imprison themselves inside of this school tomorrow, he realized as he remembered what Enoshima had told him yesterday.

 

He was going to be the mole. Oogami was going to be the mole, but Makoto had convinced her that he should be the mole. He was the perfect candidate for it, after all.

 

Alongside Ikusaba, but Makoto already knew that she would die and that he wouldn't be able to stop _that_.

 

Enoshima described despair as something wonderful, the only excitement in one's boring and predictable life. (The words sounded stolen.)

 

Makoto was in despair, at least that was what he guessed because he didn't have the will to do anything anymore. Wanted to forget what she made him watch. What she did. What she would do. What _he_ had done.

 

The difference to Enoshima's description was that Makoto didn't feel fulfilled at all.

 

It felt terrible. He imagined that this could be how depression would feel. He felt... _empty_.

 

He wanted to _forget_ and sometimes, rarely like this morning, he actually, even if just for a short period of time, _forgot_.

 

She had broken him. Made him her personal puppet with her as the puppetmaster.

 

 

...In a few days, the invasion of the Monokumas would begin.

 

Someone from the Ultimate Despairs, that he had never personally met (none of them, actually), built them. Designed them. Made them move. Made them kill.

 

The surrounding area was void of life anyway. Even without the help of the Monokumas.

 

He imagined what a country without despair would look like– to their credit, some islands were holding up great. They would get crushed soon.

 

“I'm happy to hear that!“ she squealed, “But... anyway, we need to... get going soon.“

 

“Why again...?“ Makoto asked tiredly and closed his eyes, sighing at the feeling of the hand stroking his hair gently.

 

“The others are waiting, silly!“ she answered him and giggled, “We wouldn't want to let them wait and make them suspect us, would we?“

 

He couldn't hate her.

 

He couldn't hate her and her personalities.

 

He just _couldn't_.

 

And he _hated_ that he couldn't.

 

She sighed and shook her head, “Did you already forget that we _went out for a walk_?“

 

“...Sorry.“

 

That had been a long walk. The others must be worrying already. He couldn't remember when he got to his room either. He could barely remember his way to school.

 

“You slept for like an hour, Makoto darling,“ she cooed, stopped stroking his hair (Makoto whined quietly) and cupped his face with her hands from her position. “Well, not like it matters! You'll lose your memories soon anyways! Ahahahahahaahahahaha!“

 

When had it come to this?

 

He could remember the exact moment.

 

Everything started because of a school project one year ago. They were supposed to interview someone, ask them about their goals, motivations...

 

He, in a fit of dumb curiosity that he regrets until this day, asked Enoshima if she would be willing to do this with him.

 

She agreed and so they interviewed each other in his room.

 

He had been nervous, his parents and sister had been out of the house and he was alone in the room with a famous model.

 

Fast-forward two hours, they had finished. Almost. He wished that he had turned down her request of asking one more question. “ _Do you know what despair feels like?_ “

 

“ _No_ ,“ he had answered foolishly and she had grinned, revealing her true nature immediately.

 

That was the day Enoshima found out everything about him. His weaknesses. His wishes. His fears. His hopeful optimism. She was disgusted by him, he could tell that now when he looked back at it. She wasn't anymore. She'd grown attached to him. Was happy to have him by her side.

 

It felt wrong, wrong, _wrong_.

 

Her _love_ felt so wrong, but yet so _right_.

 

 

Somewhere along the line, they stood up and walked out of the school. (“ _Let's go, shall we?_ “ Numbly, he stood up and followed her.)

 

Somewhere along the line, they had met up with Ikusaba.

 

Somewhere along the line, they had met up with everyone else, pretending like they had just woken up. They hadn't suspected a thing.

 

(He noticed that they probably left quietly without anyone noticing around three or four in the morning, where no one had stood up yet. Everyone usually stood up around seven in the morning.)

 

It was suspicious how nobody seemed to suspect a thing, but Makoto paid it no mind.

 

Kirigiri Jin hugged his daughter, who stared blankly at the wall in front of her. “ _Take care,_ “ he said with sad resignation.

 

“ _Don't you dare die on me either, dad,_ “ she had snapped at him and the principal had ruffled her hair fondly.

 

Most of their classmates had laughed at the display in front of them, while Kirigiri huffed and averted her gaze with an apparent blush on her cheeks.

 

Then they were on their way to school.

 

 

 

Shortly after that, they arrived. The things they needed to imprison themselves inside of the school were already present. (He hadn't noticed them earlier.) They wasted no time and started working on it.

 

A few days passed like that, with Makoto putting on his usual friendly, _not-empty_ , mask.

 

“Naegi-kun, are you sure that you're alright?“ Maizono asked him and Makoto turned to her with a smile on his face, “You look pale.“

 

“Thank you for worrying about me, Maizono-san,“ he answered and it sounded so fake, fake, _fake_ , even to his own ears, “But I'm fine, promise.“

 

_[Lies, lies, lies, stop lying, why are you lying?]_

 

He shook his head. He thought that he lost his conscience a long time ago. Having no conscience or feelings meant not being able to experience despair to the fullest. Despair like he had heard from Enoshima. So, _stop feeling_. Stop, _stop_ , _**stop**_!

 

“Are you alright?!“ Maizono shouted, attracting unwanted attention from the others, “What's wrong?!“

 

Makoto blinked, feeling tears running down his cheeks. He immediately wiped them away but they _wouldn't stop coming_. Why _wouldn't they stop_? _Why_ was _he_ _crying_?

 

“I-I'm–“ he started and then took a deep breath to regain his composure, “I'm fine, just... confused. Why this had to happen. Why someone would do something like this in the first place. Why it had to come to t-this.“

 

(There was more truth in his words than he would've liked.)

 

_Stop. Stop this. He didn't need this. It was better without– **without** – _

 

“You look skinnier,“ Kirigiri pointed out after she came over, “Have you been eating well?“

 

(He appreciated her trying to change the subject.)

 

_Where was Junko? Where was she? He didn't know how to handle this– his act broke– he couldn't– What was he supposed to do? He couldn't–_

 

“And your eyes look weird, dude,“ Hagakure joined in on the conversation. “You sure that you're okay?“

 

“Maybe he should go lie down?“ Asahina asked and Kirigiri nodded and Makoto just wanted it to _stop, stop,_ _ **stop**_ _, don't look at him, what he had become, what he would do, what he was supporting, that he still wanted Junko's love and support even though– even though she was a– a–_

 

“What's goin' on in here?“ Junko, _Junko_ , _**Junko**_ asked and entered the room, Ikusaba following after her like a dog. Makoto suppressed the urge to run over to her and hide behind her like a scared child.

 

“Naegi-kun isn't feeling well,“ Maizono answered before he could say a word and Junko raised her eyebrow at them, then looked over at him and her eyes widened the tiniest bit in sadistic and childish glee.

 

“Let me bring him to his room, alright?“ she said with a big smile on her face, then walked over and took his hand, “Come, Naegi-kun, I'll bring ya to your room!“

 

They left the others behind, leaving them dumbfounded.

 

* * *

 

 

“Makoto-chaaaaan!“ she drawled and drooled after she had helped him sit down on his bed, “You look so _beautiful_!“

 

“Why...?“ Makoto began slowly, hated that he had these times where his feelings resurfaced, couldn't keep them hidden anymore, the moments where his feelings showed themselves, the hate, the confusion, the love, the sadness, the anger, the _despair_ , “ _Why did you have to do all that?!_ “

 

Tears were still running down his cheeks and he hiccuped pathetically. “Why? Why c-can't I _hate you_...? _Y-You're_ at fault...! _Everything_ is _your fault_ , so _why_?!“

 

She hugged him. He felt _safe_. He was _disgusted_. He leaned into her embrace, suddenly feeling weak and drained and–

 

“Why, you ask?“ she whispered into his ear and he shivered and cried harder into her shoulder, dampening the fabric beneath, “Because you're a _fuckin' dumbass_ , that's why!“

 

He flinched, but ultimately stopped crying. He tried to lean away as much as he could without actually leaving. Without leaving the safety of her arms. Go away. Stay. This is wrong, _right_ , _**wrong**_.

 

“Just an idiot would be so weak and let me fuckin' mess him up!“ she laughed and her arms tightened around him, making him finally squirm and want to get out but stay inside at the same time, “But none of this is your fault. It is all the fault of the others that have made your life miserable and not worth living. For example your bullies, or your parents that paid your sister more attention than _you_.“

 

He flinched again, the words physically hurting him.

 

“You got into Hope's Peak through a lottery... Is that not so unfair...? Why could you not have been born with a talent, I wonder...? To not be ordinary, _average_ and _**boring**_. Maybe people would have appreciated you and your existence more. Not ridicule you for it.“

 

Stop, _stop_ , _**please**_...

 

“But, Makoto-chan, I'm the only one who loves you, cares for you,“ she said and his _body suddenly refused to move one bit, until Junko allowed him to, his savior, his queen, his–_

 

_Let this stop, let this, he didn't want this, let this– not– Why–_

 

“You were destined, _born_ to rule the world as the King of Despair by my side, dear Makoto...“ she whispered gently and the tension left his shoulders, “And tomorrow, tomorrow is the day that our goal will finally be fulfilled.“

 

His body went slack.

 

That was right.

 

It was going to be fine.

 

From tomorrow on, he didn't have to worry about it again.

 

No Enoshima, no despair, no _memories_.

 

(He hoped that he would get killed off quickly. Knowing his pathetic self from one year ago, he most likely would.)

 

“Now sleep and then get back to work, the sooner we finish, the sooner we can start!“ Enoshima said and tucked him under the blanket, “Now rest well, alright?“

 

And so, he slept, Enoshima's footsteps being the only thing he heard before he fell asleep.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

After he woke up, he stoop up and walked back into the hallway he was sure the others were in.

 

When they saw him enter, most of them smiled at his return, “Are you feeling better?“ Asahina asked him, eyes wide.

 

“Yeah,“ he answered this time with another of these fake smiles of his.

 

Tomorrow it would start.

 

Tomorrow he would forget.

 

**Author's Note:**

> what have i done
> 
> there's already a sequel planned dammit why am i doing this to myself
> 
> https://discord.gg/9BUKBWe


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